In the Absence of Persecution

Todays view of Christianity appears to range from general indifference to open hostility. This range of emotion exists because the image conveyed by the religious enterprise has been undermined by its own lack of moral clarity. This is not something to dismiss lightly, because the degree of indifference suggests another authority has taken over the moral landscape—the identity of the Church has been diluted to the extent that its point of difference has been assimilated with a degenerating social milieu. Some might disagree with this appraisal, but I'm not sure what measure might be used to suggest otherwise. The question is: has the culture marginalised the Church, or has the Church withdrawn and isolated itself, because it fears persecution?

Persecution – The redemption of Man is not an inclusive or subjective relationship; it's an objective theocratic position in Jesus Christ—that we submit too. This alone makes Christianity counter-cultural when compared to the hedonistic social demands for moral inclusivity. But, where is the outrage that might be expected against Christians today? Persecution should be a natural consequence for those who carry a message that disagrees with the prevailing moral ethic. Just as creation was subjected to a contest between good and evil, the same contest continues today, which is why Jesus could say, "If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also." Therefore, it appears perfectly reasonable to judge the spiritual state of the Church by the degree to which it experiences persecution.

Contextual Reductionism – Given its invisiblity within the social and moral landscape, it's difficult to suggest the Church has any obvious influence. The provocative answer might be that the Church is spiritually impotent and positionally irrelevant. In attempting to attract unbelievers, the Church has pursued a reductionist approach to basic theological presuppositions—especially since the 1960s—which has some evangelical utility, if reductionism refers to how we convey the Gospel message to new Christians.

However, those considered to be leaders are somewhat removed from public discourse, and this by choice—confining their evangelical purpose to the local Church. This results in a dumbing down of its intellectual and theological capacity—and the stagnation of its disciples. Reductionism has reduced the Church to a position commensurate with an oversimplification of theological axioms, thus weakening the authority of the message. I can't remember the last time I heard a Church speak against a situation where the community suffered as a consequence of authoritarian overreach. Maybe the Christian influence has become little more than something said, not something done.

Localisation – I don't believe the Church has consciously pursued a reductionist approach, but the result has been the same. In many respects, it's been decades of inward-focused localisation, with its mission focused on the internal affairs of the institution. By changing the focus of its disciples, the institution has diminished it's wider purpose. The heart of discipleship is building a relationship with God, but its usefulness is tested in walking as Jesus walked. Therefore, the function of the Church is to enable the walk of its constituents—not the reverse. I'm referring to the historical practice of analysing and describing the complexity of the body of Christ in terms of its organisational structures, rather than individuals themselves. Both aspects need each other, but if we're serious about looking for solutions to the current apathy, we might consider the purpose and utility of religious hierarchies. We can examine the Church in terms of its constituents or the institution, but in the final analysis, past decisions have condemned the authority of the whole. We haven't examined the combined achievement of the Body, with the results its achieved. Nor have we compared it to the general tenor in which the community regards the moral authority of the Church. It's not compelling to argue that today’s disciples are walking as Jesus walked. Even if some choose to disagree, the absence of persecution remains self-evident.

Nothing to Say – I've considered that maybe this state of apathy might be the result of a growing elderly population in the Church, but from what I can see, the young are just as apathetic, and no more persecuted than the old. Therefore, whatever this group is doing, it’s not garnering the persecution that might set them apart. Likewise, young adults demonstrate limited spiritual confidence or enthusiasm for facing persecution. I’m not suggesting we pursue persecution, but it should be the natural consequence of a counter-cultural message. Maybe we are a little ashamed of the Gospel? In the last six years, New Zealand has experienced a narcissistic, virtue-signalling descent into false compassion over COVID-19, and many have suffered the consequences of totalitarian control, rejection, segregation, financial loss, and, in some cases, persecution. Yet the Church has remained silent. Is it any wonder that the world ignores the Christian message when its disciples have nothing to say about far-reaching social issues? Sadly, the Church poses no threat to the current moral decline, so can we claim to walk as Jesus walked? I'm not suggesting we stand with placards, shout in the streets, harass the public, or pursue political solutions. We might consider the simple idea of stating our opinion and responding to the decline in social mores with something like: the truth. At least we might prophesy into the social conscience and warn of the consequences of allowing a moral vacuum to be filled with ideas that result in social catastrophe.

Chosen Out of the World – Why persecution? For decades, the Church has talked about good works, but these works are rarely equated with anything close to persecution. When was the last time a Church in New Zealand was seriously persecuted for confronting a controversial social narrative—apart from, say, Brian Tamaki? Jesus conveyed this idea very clearly in John 15:18-19, so let this sink in: "If the world hates you, keep in mind that it hated me first. If you belonged to the world, it would love you as its own. As it is, you do not belong to the world, but I have chosen you out of the world. That is why the world hates you." In verse 20, Jesus talks to the disciples and says, "If they persecuted me, they will persecute you also." In Matthew 5:10, 5:12, 10:23, and 24:9, we see the inevitable consequences of standing in place of Jesus.

The planet is experiencing an evolving cultural catastrophe—a spiritual battle with Evil. Today we see the weaponisation of moral axioms, hijacked by Marxist tropes that redefine identity—and spark an ideological revolution. The nature of this deception is straight from the biblical account of the Fall, where the true purpose of evil is the death of God. I don't believe we've seen the worst of this catastrophe, because the Body of Christ, as God's representatives, is the ultimate target of woke ideology. So it's with some irony that the axiom of love has been hijacked and supplanted the Church. Woke is, first and foremost, a seditious attempt to install a narrative that creates victims and victimisers, it divides people according to ethnic and cultural backgrounds, in the name of achieving equality of outcomes. People are judged according to their social status and defined by inherited privilege. This inherited privilege—whatever that means—casts perpetrators as responsible for the deprivation of those defined as victims. The means of controlling those deemed to have excessive privilege is the weaponisation of language under categories such as colonialism, safety, caring, love, unity, inclusion, and fairness. All of these have become tropes for victims to exact their narcissistic pseudo-spiritual claims to power and wealth. The Woke have become the victimisers, the slaves of evil, where acts of the flesh are celebrated, legalised, and dangerously close to being made compulsory. While the Church continues to remain silent, the wolf walks through the door and rapes the moral foundations that traditionally protected civil society from extremes. Absolutes have been ripped, and right and wrong replaced with a vacuum—into which society pours sexual immorality, impurity, idolatry, and witchcraft; hatred, discord, jealousy, fits of rage, selfish ambition, dissensions, factions, and envy; drunkenness, orgies, and the like. Meanwhile, the Church sits on its backside and contemplates the notion of unity.

Unity is impossible if we interpret unity as agreeing with each other. I've listened to the calls for unity in the Church, and I imagine that most of those who make this call are genuine; however, the meaning is always conveyed in the language of agreement. Biblical unity is not predicated on the idea of agreement; it’s positional. The biblical context of unity was established by God, through Jesus Christ—not by Man. In other words, Christians are united in Christ, and this is not something we do; it's a position we assume through salvation—and therefore something we don’t control. Reaching some degree of agreement is far more elusive. Individual Christians and Churches are no more in agreement than we might expect from any secular group of people, but it is something we might strive for. So how many agree with me then? The solution to disagreement is a risky conversation between disagreeable people.

Reclaiming the Spiritual High Ground – In conclusion, a discussion about “walking the walk that Jesus walked” is long overdue. The Body of Christ is commissioned to carry the authority of the Holy Spirit, because we've been called to walk as Jesus walked. However, we must be willing participants—reactionary, but not to make virtue-signalling statements without rhyme or reason. We need to respond with a clear and combined apologetic message. We cannot resort to defensive apologies or shy away from persecution. It's not sufficient to let public discourse descend into chaos without stating our position and encouraging debate. And that’s all I have to say about this.